Unsatisfied Desires: REBELLION
by hakojo
Summary: Sequel to UNINTENTION; The Prime Minister makes a visit to her home town and realizes that for everything she's accomplished, there are a few rather crucial things she's managed to overlook. f/f, post SSS.
1. Chapter 1

**欲求不満(Unsatisfied Desires): REBELLION**

_Madam Prime Minister:_

_I humbly beg your pardon for contacting you so informally, considering how long it's been since we've seen each other and also because of the graveness of this letter, but it seemed like the safest way to ensure that this message reached you in its entirety._

_I must confess that I know little of the situation currently standing between yourself and Miho, although she has mentioned to me that the two of you have been out of touch for many years. In case you did not know the particulars already, three years ago she became very ill and was diagnosed with cancer; although she did receive treatment, the illness had already spread throughout her body, and her doctors say that she has less than a year to live. They offered her hospice care until the end of her life, but she insisted upon dying in her own house. You may rest assured that myself and many other neighbors have gladly taken it upon ourselves to make her as comfortable as is possible._

_Although she has not said so directly, I believe that Miho would very much like to see you again before she passes away. I understand that you have many other issues demanding your time, and again, as I know close to nothing about where your relationship with one another stands, you might not wish to come for reasons of your own. However, should you have the time and inclination, I'm sure your visit would be greatly appreciated._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Minami Yoshida_

I had to have read the letter a hundred times already in the week since it had arrived, and still I felt nothing more than a kind of vague shock, as if I'd been told that an acquaintance's mother had developed cancer and had only months left to live instead of my own. I had half expected, in my hundred rereadings, to find some little detail I had missed before; something indicating that it was another Mrs. Yoshida writing to another female prime minister somewhere about someone else who just happened to be named Miho Kayabuki, and my receiving the message had been one big coincidence-filled accident.

But, well, it wasn't as if my address was easy to mistake.

I scanned the letter again, even though I knew every stroke by heart. My eyes rested on the final paragraph; there was no way my mother had indicated any desire to see me. For her to do so would be tantamount to admitting that she had been wrong about something, and she would die before ever doing such a thing. If she wanted me in her presence it was probably just so she could murder me, thereby achieving the dubious honor of having outlived both her husband and her daughter.

As for me, I'd tried to ignore the letter entirely, and for the first day I'd nearly succeeded. On the second day I'd realized that I'd forgotten to throw it away, and by the third day, tiny whispers of _the only mother you'll ever have_ and _it's really not that far of a trip_ were cycling through my mind with alarming regularity. The worst part was that I couldn't decide whether I wanted to go because I was honestly concerned, or because I knew that few things would bother my mother more than seeing me again and being reminded of how horribly I'd disappointed her; it fluctuated depending on my mood.

There was a sharp knock on my office door, and I looked up.

"Come in."

The heavy door creaked open, admitting Mari, who stood to one side and lowered her head respectfully as my visitor strode past her.

I'd known she was coming and had had ample time to prepare myself, and still my insides were turning in knots. I stood, waiting for her to reach the desk; once she was facing me, she bent forward in a stiff bow.

"Prime Minister."

"Thank you for coming, Major Kusanagi." I gestured to the sofa on the opposite side of the room. "Please, sit down."

She'd always made me a little nervous, ever since the first time we'd met. Everything about her was so strikingly alien to me that I hadn't known how to react, and I'd found myself overpowered by the sheer force of her presence. Her appearance hadn't helped matters; she possessed a kind of indescribable beauty, something that was more an extension of her aura than any reflection of her admittedly unremarkable facial features. It was the sort of thing that anyone would have found themselves attracted to; I had always tried to justify my own feelings by thinking of her as an abstract concept, like a piece of art, rather than an actual human woman, which had seemed to do the trick for a good couple of years.

Then things had gotten complicated. It almost hurt, now, to see her sitting there so nonchalantly, her arms folded across her chest, gazing at me with little more than mild curiosity, although when I gave it another moment of thought, how had I expected her to act? If word got out that Japan's first female prime minister had had an extramarital affair, the public backlash would be disastrous; for that affair to be with another woman was a situation I wasn't even prepared to think about, let alone face. My press team had already destroyed all the evidence of my heritage and my divorce; to saddle myself with another potential scandal, this one completely of my own making, would have been completely irresponsible and reckless.

"So," said the Major, "you have a job for me?"

I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"There's a town called Uchiko about an hour and a half away from Niihama; are you familiar with it?"

I could almost see the circuits firing behind her eyes as she searched for the information.

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

"I'll need an escort there and back this coming weekend."

She nodded. "For one day or two?"

"Only one; Sunday. I don't think I'll be there more than an hour."

"I see. When do you want me to come get you?"

"Around seven in the morning would be best; plenty of time to get there and back. And you'll be well paid, of course."

"Of course," she said, her sculpted lips curving into the barest hint of a smile. "Don't worry; I trust you. Is that all?"

"I believe so," I said.

Just as I'd hoped, she hadn't asked any unnecessary questions. It was why I'd fought past my nerves and called her about this in the first place instead of simply entrusting the matter to my security staff. Having Mari take me had also been an option, but recurring past events had taught me that it was always worth it to travel with decent protection.

"All right, then," she said. "I'll take it. You can transfer the funds to me electronically over whatever period of time seems least conspicuous to you; I'll leave instructions for doing so with Mari on my way out."

"Thank you," I said, getting to my feet. "I know this must seem like little more than a minor inconvenience to you, considering the work you're used to taking on..."

"Not at all, ma'am" she said, and it was impossible to tell whether she was humoring me for the sake of manners or whether she was being sincere. I'd spent the last decade in politics and never before had I seen such a perfect mask.

"I'll see you on Sunday morning."

She stood, bowed once more, and then left the room.

* * *

><p>Sunday came more quickly than I would have liked; it was one thing to convince myself that going to see my mother was the right thing to do, and quite another to actually do it. There were reasons we hadn't spoken in over a quarter of a century, and I was honestly more than a little afraid of the reception I was going to find when I arrived home.<p>

_Home_. There was a word I hadn't been able to apply to my own life for quite some time. I was surprised that I even connected it with my mother's house anymore.

I shifted restlessly as I waited on the steps leading to the rear entrance of the building; I'd skipped my usual morning jog to agonize over my clothes for an additional fifteen minutes. I was going to have to put my closet back together this evening, as I'd torn out almost everything I owned in an attempt to find something to wear that wasn't red, black, a double-breasted suit jacket, or some combination of the three. I'd hoped that if I went far enough back into my wardrobe I'd find something more casual that had made its way back there simply because I had no occasion to wear it anymore, but all I'd turned up were an odd assortment of formal gowns and kimono that I couldn't remember ever having worn in my life. Ultimately I'd settled on a plain gray sweater and the only ankle-length skirt I could find, with a blue silk scarf pinned around my neck for some color.

I had tried to forgo makeup entirely, but my own reflection had looked so odd to me without it that I'd given in in the end.

At precisely seven o'clock, an unfamiliar car swept around the curved drive, stopping neatly in front of me, its engine rumbling to a halt. Major Kusanagi emerged from the driver's side, walking swiftly to where I was standing. She was wearing a trenchcoat over a sleeveless black top and ash-colored dress pants, and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd spent even half the time I had fussing over the ensemble.

"Good morning, Prime Minister," she said, opening the passenger door for me.

"Good morning," I replied as I got in, tucking my skirt underneath me. "Did you get a new car? This isn't the same one you had during the summer..."

She shook her head. "It's not new; it's just been in storage for a few years, and now I'm taking it out into my regular rotation again." She slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed, then turned to me.

"Do you still have the thermoptic camo driver installed from the last time?"

"Yes, although I doubt we'll encounter any situation where such a thing will be necessary..."

"It never hurts to be prepared," she said, putting on her sunglasses. "That's why you called me, right?

"I suppose."

She started the car's ignition, then guided the vehicle out to the main driveway and onto the road.

The trip passed more quickly than I would have liked, partially because of Major Kusanagi's habit of driving at nearly twice the posted speed limits, but mainly because I was dreading my arrival and wishing I'd decided not to go in the first place. What was I going to say? What could I possibly say that would be appropriate for the situation? And this was all dependent on whether or not my mother would even acknowledge my presence.

I felt sick. I wanted to turn around and go back to my office.

It only got worse when we finally reached the town; no matter where I looked, I saw memories. The places I'd wandered, the stores I'd frequented (although many of these now had different names on their awnings)...even the elementary school to which I'd walked every morning, my hand tight in my father's as he took me there on his way to open up his shop for the day, was still there, exactly the same monolithic block of windowed concrete I remembered.

I knew these roads; we were getting close now. The feeling of dread inside me intensified to near panic.

The car turned onto a side street, and I watched the houses scroll by, counting them back from the corner in my mind.

_Two...three...four..._

"That's it," I said quietly, more to myself than to Major Kusanagi, although she obligingly brought the car to a halt. Her eyes widened very slightly as she noticed the plaque bearing my family name on the gate, but she made no comment. Slowly, I forced myself to open the door and step out into the street.

"I won't be long," I said. "Please wait for me here."

"All right," she said in a disinterested tone. "I'll have a channel open."

I nodded tersely, then took a deep breath and marched up to the front door. I raised my hand to knock, and then took another deep breath.

My hand was shaking.

At last I managed to tap lightly on the door. I was half-hoping that no one would be there to answer, but no, there was the muffled sound of someone hurrying down the stairs. The footsteps drew closer to the door until finally it swung inward to reveal Mrs. Yoshida, who gasped audibly when she saw me.

"Prime Minister...I wasn't expecting that you'd come out here this quickly..."

She bowed hastily, and I smiled and shook my head, bending politely at the waist in return.

"'Yoko' is fine, ma'am."

"Oh, but..." she began.

"Please; I insist."

"Very well, then," she said, looking more than a little flustered. She really hadn't changed much from the woman I remembered having always lived two doors down from us; her hair had gathered its fair share of gray in the intervening years, but then again, so had mine.

"How have you been?" she said as I stepped inside, leaving my shoes at the door. "It's been so long...my goodness, to think that the last time I saw you you'd just graduated high school, and now..."

"Well, I suppose you could say I've just been very, very busy," I said lightly. "How about your family?"

"Oh," she said, "everyone's getting along...Seiji works as an engineer for Poseidon Industrial, and Mayu has her own pottery studio here in town. Mr. Yoshida's retired now, of course, but he still spends more than half the day tinkering with the junk he picks up at the electronics shops..."

Mrs. Yoshida sighed, and I suddenly wondered what it would be like to have such mundane concerns dominating my life.

"Anyway," she said, her voice taking on a subdued tone, "Miho is upstairs...she was up when I went to look in on her only ten minutes ago, and I don't think she'd've fallen asleep since, but I'll go check to make sure..."

"Thank you," I said, and she turned and bustled up the stairs.

While I waited for Mrs. Yoshida to return, I wandered the first floor of the house; it was as if time had stopped since the last time I'd been inside. None of the furniture had been changed or even moved; the tables and couches were in the same places in the sitting room, and my mother's collections of paintings still hung on the walls. The one thing I missed was the potted plants, although those had been long gone even when I'd left home; my father had brought them home from his shop and tended them himself, and after his death my mother had disposed of them. My graduation photos, starting with the first grade and marching steadily on through high school, had also disappeared from their ceremonial place on the shelf behind the corner sofa; it was as if my mother had systematically destroyed all of the evidence indicating that she'd ever had a husband or a daughter.

I heard Mrs. Yoshida on the stairs and moved back out into the hallway.

"She's awake still; you can go on up. I haven't told her that you came to visit."

"Oh...thanks."

This was it.

I moved steadily up the stairs, forcing myself to keep going; I'd already come this far.

My mother's bedroom was the one at the end of the hall; I raised my hand and knocked gently.

"Minami? Is that you again? Come in..."

It wasn't exactly the same voice I remembered; it had grown much harsher, which I didn't think was possible. My breath caught in my throat.

Slowly, I pushed the door open.

The room was exactly as I remembered it; plain and utilitarian, in neutral colors. My mother lay in her bed, propped upright on her pillows, with a light blue shawl draped across her shoulders against the cold. She expressed no surprise upon seeing me; her eyes, sunken deep into the lines of her pale, haggard face, narrowed, and her thin lips pressed together so hard that they almost disappeared entirely.

"Yoko."

I opened my mouth to respond, and found myself incapable of speaking. My mother sighed.

"Well? Why have you come here?"

This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have done it.

"If you're too ashamed to tell me, I think I can at least make an educated guess. Minami contacted you and told you that I was dying, and, in her romantic way, she assumed that I'd want to speak to you one last time. Was that it?"

I nodded.

"But even you're not so shortsighted and stubborn that you'd think she was telling the truth. So why have you come?" She craned her neck, making a show of trying to look around me into the hallway. "I don't see a camera crew, so it can't be for a photo opportunity..."

My eyes narrowed.

"To be honest," I said quietly, "I was hoping you'd actually _have_ something decent to say to me. I suppose I was wrong."

"Oh, right," said my mother. "This is supposed to be the part where we apologize for everything we've ever done to upset each other, isn't it?" She folded her arms across her chest. "You first, then."

"Fine!" I said, taking a step forward. "I apologize for my flawless grades from the time I was six up through college! I apologize for passing my entrance exams on my first try and the bar exam on my second, and for managing to live _very_ comfortably for close to ten years off of my law degree! And I apologize most sincerely, _Mother_, for being appointed the Prime Minister of Japan!"

My mother gazed quietly at me, waiting for me to finish.

"Your turn," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said slowly, "for not realizing how far you'd go to make yourself unhappy just to spite me."

I blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, why did you go to law school?" she said in the calm tone of someone explaining something simple to a petulantly unreceptive child. "Because I told you you'd be better served finding a job to keep you occupied until you got married and had a family to take care of."

"I went because even my high school principal told me that not going to college would have been a waste of excellent test rankings," I said through clenched teeth.

"But you could have done anything," my mother said patiently. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't choose your career path simply because you thought it would irritate me."

"I..."

I couldn't do it.

"I thought so. Your whole life has been about other people's standards, Yoko; always doing whatever you had to for a kind word and a pat on the head, just so someone would validate all of the misery you'd put yourself through."

"Everyone's standards except yours," I said. "No matter what I did, you never told me that you were proud of me, even once. What was I supposed to do?"

"What did I have to be proud of?" she countered. "A daughter who had no friends, who shut herself in her room with her textbooks every afternoon and only joined clubs because her school expected her to. The piano seemed to make you happy enough, but you even gave that up once it started cutting into your study time too much."

Now that I thought about it, my mother had always loved to listen to me play the piano. It had been decades since I'd even gone near one.

"And now you've got an entire country breathing down your neck. You've made yourself into a slave; why should I praise that?"

I had no answer.

"All I wanted was for you to be happy. If you'd found your own way to do that, it would be one thing, but here you come to me having done the exact opposite, and I'm the one who's supposed to feel ashamed? Really, Yoko."

There was a long silence, and then she sighed heavily.

"In the end, I suppose I'm glad you decided to visit; now that I've said all this to you, maybe you'll stop and think about what you've been doing to yourself all these years."

"Is that all, then?" I whispered.

"Unless you've got anything else you'd like to apologize for before you go."

My eyes narrowed again, which my mother seemed to take in stride.

"Apparently not. Goodbye, then, Yoko; we won't see each other again, I'm sure."

I nodded shortly.

"Goodbye, Mother."

* * *

><p>"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done..." I said, bowing deeply to Mrs. Yoshida from the front step.<p>

"Please, don't worry about it," she said. "It's part of being a good neighbor, and Miho has done more than her fair share for us in the past. We only hope that she won't have to suffer too greatly..."

I nodded. "And if there's anything that she should need that's beyond your capabilities, please contact me; I'm sure I can arrange it."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Yoshida, bowing. "That's quite generous."

It was what anyone would expect a good daughter to say.

I thanked Mrs. Yoshida again, wished her well, and then walked back to the car. Major Kusanagi looked up as I opened the door and slid inside.

"Are you all right?"

Something about my facial expression must have given me away.

"I'm fine; take me back to Fukuoka, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p>(AN: It was interesting switching over to Kayabuki for this; she strikes me as the kind of person who would curl up with a glass of wine and a trashy romance novel if she had the time, so I tried to bring a little of that into her voice. It should become more apparent in part 2. Also, I don't know why, but something about her has always screamed "extremely troubled personal life" to me.

also also, GENESIS is not abandoned, and I'm actually really close to finishing the third chapter; my main computer has a virus and is temporarily unuseable (I've already had a _very_ serious talk with my tachikomas about how they could let that happen!), so I'm just writing this on my laptop to amuse myself in the meantime :D

also also also, I don't own any of the characters, etc.)


	2. Chapter 2

My mother's words ate into my mind during the entire trip home. I thought about my life as I'd summarized it for her; perfect grades, perfect test scores, preparing me for an entire career of pandering. Perfect little Yoko, never a step out of place. I'd spent the vast majority of my life acting in whatever way was necessary in order to please the group to which I was speaking, whether that was my teachers, clients I'd worked with, or the general voting public. I did whatever I could to minimize any fault they'd find with me; there had been a couple of minor indiscretions, of course, but they'd happened before I'd begun my political career, when I'd still had room for them, and I had still felt horrible afterward.

From that point on, there had been no room for error; having to take stances on issues meant that I could leave nothing else open for possible criticism. Even in my work I'd had to learn the trick of being principled while still remaining neutral to those I was working with; it was the only way I ever seemed to accomplish anything.

Only after the Asian refugee crisis, almost three years ago now, had I finally begun to realize that those around me understood this about me and were taking advantage of it. But I'd gone on that way for so long, it was hard to suddenly stop and reevaluate my entire way of thinking.

Then there had been the incident this past summer...

It had been the first time since...well, since I'd been _married_ that I'd really left my work for any amount of time, and it had been both terrifying and exhilarating. I'd been more than a little lost, separated from the duties I had to my office and the expectations I was used to feeling hanging over my head, but at the same time I couldn't help but thrill at the dramatic shift from my usual routine. I had felt like a child skipping school to go hide somewhere and enjoy themselves for the day...or at least like how I assumed a child in that scenario would feel, as I'd never done any such thing myself. Even the later consequences of the situation, though frightening and incredibly painful, had been oddly exciting.

The excitement had rapidly faded when I'd found out that all of this was happening simply because one of my cabinet members disagreed with me; I had dealt with an assassination attempt before, but this was different. I had managed to upset someone working close to me so deeply that they'd come up with an extremely involved plan to have me killed. It was as if my deepest fears had somehow manifested themselves in reality, and the panic I had felt had been overwhelming.

Then she had said my name and pulled me away from myself.

I turned my head slowly to look at the woman who sat less than a foot away from me, so close and yet so utterly untouchable.

That was why I'd called her; I'd known exactly how the meeting with my mother would turn out, and I wanted her to make it all go away again.

It had been so surreal to sit there in the darkness, with this person of whom I'd stood in such awe for so long, resting lightly against her heavy, unyielding body. I'd never expected that her hands, which I'd personally witnessed ripping apart my assistant's arm as if it had been constructed of tinfoil, could be so gentle as they pulled me toward her, or that her gaze could be anything other than distant and emotionless. Her frigid, terrifying beauty had melted away until all that was left was someone who was there to comfort me; someone whom I could trust. We had been nothing more than two people together, and when she'd kissed me it had seemed like the most natural, uncomplicated thing in the world.

And then when she'd linked with me...

There were no words to describe it; I wasn't even exactly sure what had happened then. It was something that had run more deeply and swiftly inside me than anything I'd ever felt before, like a swollen river flooding its banks, washing away everything else that had clouded my mind. I didn't care that I'd upset anyone; in fact, I was eager to do more of the same.

More than anything, I wanted that sense of rebellion again. To be able to act in defiance of consequence instead of in order to avoid it.

She _was_ that sensation; it was why she had always made me so nervous, and at the same time why she had fascinated me. Although her public demeanor was rarely anything other than formal and polite, behind those eyes was a force that could not be contained, that moved where it wanted for whatever reasons suited it.

Maybe I needed a potential scandal in my life.

I pulled away from that thought; her rebellion was measured, calculated with military precision. I just wanted to do something stupid for the sake of it.

I turned back to the window and watched the lights of Fukuoka, bright against the early dusk, as they drew closer and closer. Too soon they became the main gate lights of the sprawling complex where I lived; I hadn't wanted to leave that morning, and now I didn't want to go back.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Major Kusanagi had stopped the car in front of the entrance where she'd come to get me earlier. She was looking at me with only the slightest trace of interest visible around her eyes.

"Yes, thank you," I said shortly.

Her eyebrows twitched slightly upward, as if she wasn't entirely convinced; nevertheless, she got out of the car to open my door for me. I felt more than a little patronized by the gesture, although as I had no way of knowing if that was what she'd intended or whether she was simply being polite, I made no comment.

"Thank you for your services," I said quietly, stopping as I passed by her on my way to the door. She smiled thinly.

"You're very welcome, Prime Minister."

I nodded. "Well, good evening, then."

"And yourself."

I turned away and walked toward the door. There was no noise from behind me; she was still standing there, watching. Only when I reached out and touched the door handle did I hear the heels of her boots clicking against the pavement, away from me.

My hand froze, still extended in midair.

I turned around.

"Wait."

The word escaped me before I could hold it back, and I cringed inwardly. It had been barely more than a whisper; maybe she wouldn't hear.

She stopped, and then slowly turned her head.

I stood perfectly still, waiting for her to ask, in her polite way, what I still wanted with her, but she said nothing. For several nearly unbearable moments her face registered little more than dull surprise -why did she have to be so difficult to read?- until finally an unmistakable expression of comprehension crept across it.

That was even worse.

I watched as she turned the rest of her body to face me, relaxing her stance and setting one hand on her hip.

"Well, are you at least going to invite me inside?"

The place where I lived was actually a guest suite on the other side of the residential wing from the rooms traditionally allotted to the Prime Minister; it was one of the very, very few accommodations I'd asked my staff to make for me when I'd moved in. I was accustomed to small, cramped apartments, having lived in them for most of my life, and having so much space suddenly available to me, especially a space that had clearly been expecting someone else to occupy it, made me more than a little uncomfortable.

I closed the door behind me, then removed my jacket and my shoes and tucked them into the closet. As I turned around again, Major Kusanagi shimmered back into visibility.

"How do you do that, anyway?" I murmured, in a half-hearted attempt to make the situation slightly less uncomfortable.

"Micromachines woven into my skin," she said nonchalantly, stepping out of her boots and leaving them by the door. There was another awkward stretch of silence, and then she sighed and turned back to me.

"So, feel like telling me why I'm here right now?"

I really didn't; I felt more like traveling back in time somehow and clamping my hand firmly over my past self's mouth.

She moved closer.

"Did something happen?"

There was no anger or accusation or even annoyance in her voice; if anything, she sounded concerned.

I remained silent, looking at a spot on the wall, wishing with all my heart that she would somehow grow bored of waiting for me to answer her and just leave, although I knew it would never happen; she was far too tenacious. With any luck I'd just be able to make it through this without doing anything hideously moronic.

She was so close now that my spot on the wall had disappeared behind her shoulder, although I still stared at it stubbornly.

"Yoko..."

Everything began to fall apart.

I hated the soft tone of her voice; the way it pronounced my name so casually, with no respect for the gravity of the situation, as if I could be any other woman. She was playing with me; she knew how I felt around her, and she couldn't have been ignorant of the reasons why it was impossible for me to act on those feelings.

Why had I called her back and started this whole mess? Why did she make me feel this way to begin with?

Why couldn't I have been someone, _anyone_ else?

"You could at least do me the common courtesy of answering me..."

"I'm sorry," I whispered automatically

"Oh?" she said. "Why?"

I froze again, unable to continue.

"Because you can't speak?"

Her fingertips brushed against my cheek.

"Because you can't forget?"

The palm of her hand curved around my face.

"Or because you can't decide what to do about either?"

I looked up, expecting to see that infuriating half-smile quirking the corners of her mouth, taunting me.

Instead I saw only soft, quiet understanding.

Our eyes met, and all at once, in that single, simple moment, everything became clear.

She knew why I had called her back; why I had requested her company on this trip to begin with.

She was here right now because she wanted to be.

And more than anything else, she wanted whatever happened next to come from me.

She watched me patiently, her hand still resting on my cheek; even though her expression was gentle, her gaze still bored into me with such intensity that I was unable to look away and break the link that had formed between us.

I was moving toward her, somehow; it was as if that seething river deep down inside me had caught me again in its current and was now dragging me along with such force that there was no way to escape it. My arms were around her shoulders now, and I couldn't remember having moved them. Her hand slid back across my cheek, fingers sinking down into my hair, pulling me across those last few centimeters.

For all of the momentum behind it, the first brush of our lips was surprisingly delicate. I held there for a few seconds in the electric tingle that radiated from her skin, and then drew my head back as far as her hand would allow.

Her lips remained softly parted, and the brief flash of emotion in her eyes made me suspect that I wasn't the only one who hadn't been able to forget that night.

I opened my mouth; I wanted to say her name, but I suddenly realized that I couldn't remember what it was, if I'd ever even known in the first place.

She caught me in another kiss before I had the chance to think of it.

I wanted more than anything to be able to move with her, to let the hum of her body envelop me and carry me far away, but no matter how hard I pushed it away, trying to focus on the soft sweetness of her lips, or the warm, solid weight of her arms around me, that feeling of apprehension always crept forward again.

This was wrong. Not allowed.

Her hand slipped away from my hair. I heard the muted click of a cable being retracted, and then it was back, fumbling for the ports at the nape of my neck. The metal end of the connector touched my skin, and my hair seemed to stand on end. Desperately, I jerked away from her.

"I...I can't," I whispered, still gasping for breath. "I _shouldn't_..."

"Why not?" she breathed, bumping her forehead against mine.

"Because..."

It was so much easier to rationalize to myself without those eyes right in front of me, burning with want. Her hand was frozen on my shoulder, still holding the connector at the ready.

"It's not...if anyone was ever to find out about this...I can't justify-"

"You liked it, didn't you? The last time?"

Her deep, powerful voice was a beautiful compliment to the high-pitched whine of the components of her body working furiously beneath the skin. I nodded softly.

"So why, after everything you put yourself through over the course of an average day, _shouldn't_ you do something you so obviously want?"

"I..."

My mother's words flashed through my mind again.

_Your whole life has been about other people's standards..._

Why?

"It's not that simple," I said, looking away, more to myself than to the Major. "It can't be..."

"And why is that?"

I turned back to her; she was smiling, and I couldn't help but mirror her expression.

"I don't know."

I moved in to kiss her again. At the same time, the plug sank into the back of my neck.

Everything melted into light.

Brilliant white, separating into a glowing spectrum and then blurring together again in patterns beyond description.

Her hands seared through my clothes, tracing delicate lines across my body until every inch of my skin blushed, until I could barely stand it any longer. Part of me wanted to draw back from the contact, but I trusted that she knew what she was doing, and let her continue.

Slowly, her fingertips continued to move along my skin until it felt as if my flesh was burning away as well, melting together with the vibrance of the white light surrounding me. She moved forward, dragging her lips very deliberately along what I sensed had been my neck; now it seemed as though she was touching something much deeper, generating more sensation than I had ever thought possible.

_Feels all right?_

Even though I couldn't see her smile or hear her voice, I sensed them quite clearly. My mind was in no state to respond with coherent words; instead, I opened my emotions to her, releasing an immense surge of satisfaction.

_...Oh..._

She pressed herself into me almost involuntarily, and we dissolved together into one unified whole, no longer separated by physical bodies or mental barriers. The white intensified, consuming what remained of my consciousness, until I existed only as a tangled nervous system, each atom sparking with pleasure, and an intense, intangible desire for the woman tangled together with me; even in this state, it felt as though we could never be close enough...

And then it was over.

I opened my eyes.

I was lying on my back, on the sofa in my sitting room, with my head in the Major's lap. My body seemed too heavy to even think about moving, and I trembled as if with a fever; my face felt hot even as chills raced up and down my spine, and my lips quivered as I panted heavily.

She rested her hand lightly on my shoulder.

"Are you all right? Moving back into the physical body can be disorienting if you aren't used to it."

Awkwardly, I drew my hand up rest on top of hers.

"I'm fine..."

My physical discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling of connection we'd shared only a few minutes before. It was worth it.

"Are you sure? I tried not to push you too far, but..."

"You didn't. I just need to lie still for a moment..."

A lot of the feverish sensations had already begun to fade, but I didn't want to move just yet.

Even the physical contact, limited as it was, was too nice to want to give up.

"...Major?" I said awkwardly; I still couldn't remember what her name was.

"Yes?"

She didn't seem to mind it at all.

"...You're going to have to leave soon, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said quietly, after a moment's hesitation. "But...I can come see you from time to time. That is, if you can justify such a scandalous thing..."

"I think I can manage," I said.

"It won't be very often, of course; maybe once a month, if that."

"I understand."

"Also, I have two other girlfriends already; you'll have to share."

"Fair enough."

"By the way, I'm sorry about your mother."

I looked up at her; she squeezed my shoulder gently, and then let out a soft sigh.

"I appreciate it," I said slowly.

I was sorry too. I hoped that somehow she knew that she could finally be happy for me.

We fell silent again. Now that I had fallen back in proper sync with my body, I felt achingly tired from the day's events. It was getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

"I'm all right now," I whispered. "You can go if you want."

"I'll stay a while longer. Until you fall asleep."

My eyelids had already fallen shut.

"Thank you..."

Her hand softened on my shoulder, then moved to curve around my cheek.

"I'll be back again. I promise."

"I know..."

As I sank into sleep, I thought that I could feel her again the way I had before, not as a physical body, but as a blaze of light and heat intertwined with my own consciousness. It was such a primal form of existence; in that state, it didn't matter that we were both women, or that she was a police officer and I was the Prime Minister of Japan.

This was my rebellion, and it had only just begun.


End file.
